Interference from a KnowItAll
by kci47
Summary: Hermione determines a course of action to save Severus Snape. But how will this affect her past, present, and future? Written for the "One Line Competition, Round 2" on HPFC. Mostly drama with a hint of romance. Warning: character deaths. Thanks to Gamma Orionis for the lovely cover image!
1. Hermione the younger, 1994

The locked door fascinated and puzzled her. Thus far, none of her spells had worked, and the lock remained firmly engaged. Tilting her head to consider the heavy iron knob, Hermione felt a faint thrill of excitement course through her. It had been weeks since she'd been this challenged by anything!

Ever since the twins had given Harry that ridiculous Marauder's Map she, Harry, and Ron had been exploring the castle covertly (using the Invisibility Cloak) during breaks and weekends. Hermione wasn't a fool, though—she knew Harry, and probably Ron, went exploring at nighttime when she wasn't along to ruin their adventure.

_But Harry really ought to be more careful where he leaves those things laying around_, Hermione thought, grinning. She, too, had taken her share of after-hours wanderings about the castle, aided by the Map and the Cloak. It had started innocently enough—she wanted to remain in the library for as long as she felt like it—but soon she found herself exploring.

And now that the school year was nearing the end, Hermione felt confident that she knew every corridor, classroom, and chamber in the school. She had spelled, charmed, and jinxed her way into every office, common room, and greenhouse. She had grown a bit addicted to the thrill that coursed through her when she illicitly entered a locked office-perhaps a bit too addicted. There had been no room in the castle which had remained off-limits to her. Which was why it was so peculiar that she was currently unable to enter _this _room.

Staring at the door in front of her again, Hermione tapped her wand against her palm. She was out of ideas for unlocking spells. Her shoulders slumped as she realized that the mystery of _how _the door was locked paled in comparison to the reason _why _the door was locked.

This was perhaps the most puzzling. She was supposed to be serving detention with Professor Snape tonight, a detention which had been carefully planned and earned during Potions class earlier in the week. A deliberate whisper to Neville when she knew Professor Snape was watching was all it took, and she found herself assigned to Thursday evening detention in the Potions classroom.

So where was Professor Snape? Had he forgotten? Hermione was filled with bitter disappointment at the thought. She'd _wanted _to have his undivided attention for a few hours, especially in light of the suspicions she had about the assignment he'd given them when he'd stepped in for their Defense class last week.

She'd thought that scrubbing cauldrons while alone in the classroom with him would provide her an opportunity to broach her suspicions about Professor Lupin. Surely Professor Snape knew, which was why he'd given them that particular bit of reading. And if she was right...well, then she had a number of questions to ask, and she knew she could trust Professor Snape to answer truthfully.

But this dratted door was ruining all of her carefully laid plans. In order to serve her detention, she needed to enter the classroom. To enter the classroom, she needed to get the door open... Frustrated, Hermione thumped the heavy wooden door with her hand. Surprisingly, the door seemed to hum with something akin to electricity. Whatever spells or enchantments were upon the door, they were unknown to her; yet, they felt indescribably _familiar_.

Out of ideas, Hermione poked the offending lock with her wand. To her complete shock the door glowed purple for a moment before she heard the lock click, and then the door was swinging open, almost as though it recognized her. Hurrying inside before the door could change its mind, Hermione nearly fainted at the sight that met her eyes.

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**A/N: Written for the wonderful WeasleySeeker's One Line Competition, Round 2, on HPFC. The first line must be: "The locked door fascinated and puzzled her." This is currently unbeta'd; if you're interested in helping me clean it up please let me know. There are several more chapters on the way, and from here on out, the chapter title will let you know from whose POV it's in (although hopefully it's somewhat clear while you're reading, as well...again, anyone want to beta? :) ). This chapter is third-year Hermione. I'm not JK Rowling because I doubt she would ever force her characters to behave in this manner.**


	2. Hermione the elder, 1994

**Hermione the elder, 1994**

Hermione spun to face the door when she heard the lock click, her wand at the ready. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Severus had leveled his wand at the door, too. Whatever she had been expecting, it was certainly _not _for her younger self to come racing in, looking around wildly. Her fourteen-year-old self froze when she caught sight of the older Hermione standing next to Severus.

Lowering her wand, Hermione indicated that Severus should do the same. He seemed hesitant, but he did lower his wand—a bit.

"Shall I Obliviate her?" he questioned Hermione in an undertone. It was no use, though, because her younger self flinched at the question. This seemed to recall her to her surroundings, because she marched forward.

"No, you shall not!" she stated vehemently. The three of them made an odd tableau, Hermione was certain. She and her younger self were busily looking each other up and down.

"I had nearly forgotten about the teeth!" Hermione muttered, shaking her head as she eyed younger-Hermione's mouth.

The younger girl bristled. Oops—Hermione had forgotten what a sore spot that had been before her fourth year. "And what, pray tell, has happened to _you_?" the girl asked acidly, looking her up and down disdainfully. "Have you even eaten _anything _in the past week?"

Narrowing her eyes at the impudent girl, Hermione gritted her teeth to keep from snapping at—well, at herself. "You'll find out one day," was all she said. Deciding this had gone on long enough, Hermione turned to Severus. "It's no matter," she said. "She's me, so we don't have to worry about her telling anyone or causing any trouble. Besides, maybe she's meant to overhear this, so that in the future I'll know to come back here..." Trailing off, Hermione shook her head. "Time-travel is so confusing. Anyway, I haven't much more time here just now. As I was telling you before, Severus, you _must _begin research on an antidote to venom from certain snake bites. Voldemort-" She ignored the way Severus and her younger self flinched at her casual use of his name. "_Voldemort _will be returning, and sooner than you could imagine. He will have a large snake with him, Nagini, and it is of the utmost importance that you devise an antidote to her venom!"

Severus studied her face for a long moment, and she thrilled at the intensity of his gaze on hers. Those eyes had lived in her thoughts for more years than he could possibly realize. In fact...she looked at the girl standing beside her. Yes, young Hermione was already fascinated by this man, she could tell. The girl was gazing raptly at Severus. Scowling a bit at her presumption, Hermione moved to stand a bit in front of the girl. "Do you understand? You must begin _immediately_-"

"Why?" Severus asked her in the voice that curled around her heart and mind. "Why have _you _come back here to tell me this?"

Hermione considered him, wondering how much to divulge at their first meeting. She could already feel a faint tug where the Time-Turner was trying to pull her back. "I spent nearly a year looking for any sign of you or your body after the final battle. I finally came to realize that I could spend my energy more productively by assisting you throughout time."

The tugging was growing stronger, and she knew she'd be fading very soon. "It's nearly time for me to leave now. I will be back at some point, but remember, Severus—_your very life depends on this antidote._"

As the fuzzy blackness descended, Hermione spared a glance for her younger self. The poor girl was staring, slack-jawed, at Severus, apparently horrified by what she'd just heard. Hermione smiled wryly, knowing that even at fourteen she was a smart girl and would have already figured out what the visit from her older self must mean.

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**A/N: The plot thickens! Can you imagine how weird it would be to stand face-to-face with your older or younger self? Anyway, I'm not JK Rowling, and I still need a beta.**


	3. Gawain, 1999

**Gawain, 1999**

Gawain Robards, Head of the Unspeakables Department, watched as Hermione's still form grew more and more opaque until she was returned to herself again. It had taken nearly two years, but the Unspeakables had managed to recreate a few Time-Turners since the battle in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione was here by special permission from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic. Her goal, apparently, was to ensure that Professor Snape met his end in the Shrieking Shack with a means to escape the death that they all thought he'd suffered.

Shaking his head, Gawain wondered why anyone would want to waste their time on an unpleasant bloke like Snape, but it wasn't his job to sort out people's motivations. No, his job was to make sure that no one abused the laws of time or the newly-created Time-Turners.

"Well? How did it go?" he asked as she opened her eyes.

"As well as could be expected, I think," Hermione responded. "He was shocked and cynical at first, I could tell, but I presented enough evidence that _he _knew I knew what I was talking about, and I think he will at least take the time to mull over what I've told him. That's all I can hope for at this point," she said as she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table.

"And you weren't seen?" he prompted her. He didn't care whether Snape chose to listen to her or not, for Godric's sake. He just wanted to make sure she'd followed all the rules he'd laid out before agreeing to let her embark on this mad scheme.

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully, and Gawain groaned inwardly. That was not the look of someone who was about to reassure him.

"Well, interestingly, we were interrupted by, ah, me," she said, offering a smile as though it was some great joke. "I spelled the room closed, like you taught me, but I guess the lock on the door recognized that it was _me _on the other side and let her through." Gawain frowned, trying to decide just how badly this would affect things, as she rushed on. "But it's not a problem, though, is it? I mean, I'm her, or she's me, or whatever, so there's really nothing to worry about. Now she knows that I'm coming back from the future to help Severus, and I really don't think she'll run to tell anyone, because that would be getting herself in trouble, wouldn't it?" She sounded pleased with her argument.

Gawain, however, was not impressed. "There are only two rules of time-travelling, Hermione," he growled. "Don't change the past, and you _can't be seen_!" He paced back and forth in front of her, drumming his fingers on his arm. What a lousy week to have quit smoking Muggle cigarettes.

"But I was seen by myself," she said again. "Surely there's no harm-"

"No harm?" Gawain spun to face her. "No harm? Hermione, what if she'd panicked and attacked you? What if she _does _go running to Dumbledore, or McGonagall, and tells them what she saw? It could mean imminent danger for Snape, not to mention yourself-"

"She won't tell anyone." Hermione's statement was firm in its certainty. "Besides, if she had, we'd know _now_, wouldn't we?"

Gawain paused, one foot in the air, working through her logic. This was why he hated allowing non-Unspeakables access to the Time-Turners: other people didn't understand, didn't _respect _time like they did. He could tell that Hermione thought she'd won this argument by the small smile that crept onto her face. She stood.

"If that's all, Mr. Robards, then I'll be heading home now. I have a great deal of research to do before I can return to Severus again."

Scowling, he unspelled the door to the Time Room and watched as she made to leave.

"Just be cautious," he warned her before she exited. "We can have no idea how this might affect you."

"I'm sure we have no need to worry," she called back, sending him a small wave before she disappeared.

"I'm not so sure," Gawain muttered to himself, glancing at the Time-Turner on the vacated table with a worried frown.

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**A/N: I'm taking a little bit of liberty here in deciding that Gawain Robards, an Auror and formerly Head of the Magical Law Enforcement office, might have been promoted to Head of the Unspeakables after the war. It saves me from creating an OC, so I figure why not. Still not JK Rowling.**


	4. Hermione the younger part 2, 1994

**Hermione the younger, 1994**

Hermione watched Professor Snape closely as her older self faded away into nothingness. She'd seen many bizarre and amazing sights since learning she was a witch, but surely bumping into yourself during your Potions detention really took the cake, even in a magical world.

Professor Snape was absently rubbing his left arm and his eyes, though focused where the older version of herself had stood, were nevertheless seeing something very far away. Shifting on her feet, Hermione wondered if she should speak up to remind him that _she _was still there.

She supposed she wouldn't be serving her detention tonight after all. If she was still shocked to see herself standing there looking so haggard, then Professor Snape certainly was too. And she'd looked haggard, indeed. Her ribs and collarbone were prominent, her eyes had been haunted, and perhaps most worrisome of all, the cotton tee shirt her older self had been wearing revealed a nasty, thick, purple scar at the center of her chest. It had trailed down into the neckline of her shirt so Hermione knew that glimpse was just the tip of the iceberg. Shuddering slightly, she wondered when she'd received _that_ beauty, and just how painful it had been.

Steering her thoughts away from harrowing images of torture and injury, Hermione started to wonder just _how old_ her older self was. Physically, she still seemed rather young, but the expression on her face was that of someone who had lived far beyond their years. The older girl had referenced a final battle, and then another year beyond that—but when _was _the final battle? If only Hermione could figure that out, she'd know how long she had to prepare...

She gasped as things began to fall into place. Older Hermione had said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be returning, and soon. How soon? How much longer did Harry have before a crazed murderer began to hunt him again? How much time did they have until-

"Miss Granger. I had forgotten you were still here." Professor Snape pressed a slightly-shaking hand to his temple. "I will consider your detention completed. I believe it goes without saying that you are not to tell anyone of what you've witnessed here tonight—do you understand?" His gaze bored into her own, and Hermione broke into goosebumps as she did every time he looked directly at her.

"Y-yes, sir, I understand," she whispered. "But my detention-"

"Is completed," he stated firmly. "Back to your dormitory."

Feeling defeated, Hermione dragged herself slowly to the door, hoping he would change his mind. She had planned out everything she wanted to say tonight so carefully, too! Fighting off an unwanted feeling of anger towards her older self for interrupting, Hermione glanced back at Professor Snape once before she reached the door. He had moved to his desk and was standing with his hands splayed on the surface, head bowed.

He was reacting rather well for a man who'd just found out he had no more than five or six years to live.

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**A/N: Still not JK Rowling. We'll be leaving Hermione's third year behind in the next set of chapters!**


	5. Hermione the elder, 1999

**Hermione the elder, 1999**

"Hello, Mr. Robards," Hermione chirped happily as she crossed the Unspeakable office to reach the Time Room. Mr. Robards jumped out of his chair and immediately followed her.

"Hermione, I've been thinking about this, and I strongly encourage you to leave it alone," he said. Hermione rather thought he'd been practicing this statement over the course of the week while she'd been absent, researching when she should next insert herself into Severus' life and how she could help him.

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Robards, but I can handle myself just fine," she responded as politely as she could. She didn't technically need Mr. Robards' permission, as she had the direct approval of the Minister himself, but things would be so much easier if she had the former Auror on board with her task.

She wasted no time climbing up onto the Traveling Table and placing the Time-Turner into its holder. After the debacle in the Time Room several years ago, the Unspeakables had devised a new way to use the Time-Turners which kept both the device and the witch or wizard's body in one place. It was their hope that this would keep the precious few Time-Turners they had from being lost or damaged when people used them to travel backwards in time.

"No one is doubting your abilities," he said through clenched teeth. "I am only suggesting that this experiment of yours is highly volatile, and we have no way of knowing what effect it will have that you were seen-"

"By myself. Yes, I know," Hermione said, losing patience. "And it is not an "experiment", it is an effort to save a noble man's life!"

Her exclamation echoed around the eerily quiet room, causing several other Unspeakables to glance over and then look away uncomfortably. It seemed they were all against her plan to save Severus. Well, that was too bad for them, because Hermione never failed. Vowing to wave her success in their faces when Severus proved to be alive, she laid down and set the Time-Turner for the appropriate number of spins.

Arthur Weasley was about to be bitten by Nagini, and Severus needed to test his antidote if he ever hoped to save his own life.

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**A/N: Still not JK Rowling. Nor would I want to be. I mean, what would I do with all that money? All that beautiful, lovely, wondrous money...**


	6. Severus, 1995

**Severus, 1995**

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose with one long finger, wishing fervently that the term would end already. He was beyond exhausted what with Umbridge's "inspections" and the Dark Lord's "trials" in addition to spending every day with ungrateful students. It seemed that the Dark Lord was unwilling to trust him fully, even now, and the maniac was constantly demanding that Severus report to him or perform ridiculous tasks to prove his loyalty. It was wearing on Severus heavily.

Just then, a wavering image caught the edge of his vision, and suddenly Hermione Granger was standing there, casting foreign-sounding spells on his office walls and doors. He straightened, his weariness temporarily forgotten. It had been nearly two years since her last visit, and he reluctantly admitted he was intrigued.

He had worked on an antidote to the poison, just as she'd asked. However, when she had failed to return in a timely manner, he'd begun to think it was all just some peculiar figment of his imagination. He could hardly ask Miss Granger, his student, without risking exposure as being slightly insane. And then, of course, her fourth year had brought certain...challenges...of its own, and he had quite forgotten about her dire warning.

Now, everything she'd said at her first visit came rushing back. How she had returned to him from the future to help him prepare for his almost certain death. How she knew where his true loyalties lie, and why. But most perplexing of all was how she'd said she wanted desperately to help him—to save him. His only interactions with her student self had been classroom-related, and other than being an annoying addition to his class roster, she had barely registered.

Staring at her now, though, he could hardly believe it was the same person. This Hermione had flared to life in his office looking like an avenging angel bent on accomplishing her task at any cost. Her corkscrew hair fairly crackled with energy and there was a fierce light in her eyes that mesmerized him. Despite her many scars and general air of neglect, he thought her terrifyingly beautiful. But perhaps that was merely because she claimed to have come for _him_.

"Please, come in, Miss Granger," he muttered mockingly.

She shot him a scowl that he suspected was more amused than offended. "I think you should call me Hermione, Severus," she replied. "As I am now, you are no longer my professor, nor have you been for close to two years."

He inclined his head briefly before asking the question that had been plaguing him since her last visit. "Why are you here?" he said, genuinely curious.

She propped one hip on the edge of his desk, and he sat back, baffled by her casual treatment of his space. "As I told you last time, I am here to guide you down the path to cheating death—_stoppering_ death, if you prefer," she added with a small smile.

Her reference to his first-year lecture only increased his curiosity. "That is not what I am asking," he said slowly, unsure how to proceed. He decided a direct route might be best, as he had no idea how long she would be staying this time. "Why _you_? Have you been assigned this duty by the Minister, or-"

"It is not a duty," she interjected, sounding offended. "I have _chosen _to help save you because you deserve saving. It's quite simple."

He stood and came around the side of the desk to loom over her. "I don't believe it is that simple, Mi- Hermione. I suppose you were chosen from a long line of volunteers?" he drawled. His suspicions were confirmed when her eyes darted away from his. Grabbing her chin in one hand, he leaned closer. "I thought not. So I will ask you again: Why. Are. You. Here?"

She scowled and tried to twist her face out of his hand, to no avail. He gripped her chin more tightly and tilted her face until she had no choice but to look at him. They were a mere inch apart when she finally answered.

"I care for you, you ridiculous man!" she blurted out.

Severus tensed, his eyes locked with hers. He understood what she'd said, but he could not bring himself to believe it. How was such a thing possible? Perhaps she was attempting to throw him off by giving a flippant answer.

"Do not lie to me," he bit out, leaning even closer to her.

"It's the truth," she hissed, surging forward until they were nose to nose. Unfortunately, Hermione-the-younger choose that moment to enter his office.

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**A/N: Leave it to Severus to narrow in on the deepest of Hermione's motivations... Not JKR, in case you haven't heard.**


	7. Hermione the younger, 1995

**Hermione the younger, 1995**

"...and I looked it up in the library, my answer regarding the powdered root of asphodel is not 'entirely inaccurate' as you wrote on my exam- Oh!" Her eyes widened as she took in the scene in front of her. Professor Snape's face was very close to her own, older face; one hand gripped her chin in a possessive manner. Both pairs of eyes had swiveled to look at her and she could tell they regarded her as a distraction.

_Good_, she thought uncharitably. _They deserve to be interrupted. _She straightened her shoulders and raised her exam paper again, deciding to ignore whatever it was she'd walked in on. "As I was saying, I believe that my answer for question six was entirely-"

"Son of a bludger, was I always this irritating?" her older self asked. Hermione stiffened, insulted. One corner of Professor Snape's mouth tilted up, and Hermione felt tears welling in her eyes. They thought her _irritating_, childish; a joke.

"I'll come back another time, Professor," she said so softly she wasn't sure they'd heard. Taking one step backwards, she became angry when her older self and Professor Snape resumed their conversation as though she'd never stepped in.

"You care for me, do you, you impertinent witch?" he was saying.

"It's hardly a secret," her older self retorted. Suddenly, the older girl pointed at Hermione. "Just look at her! She's halfway in love with you; it's obvious."

Hermione gasped. How _dare _she? How dare she reveal her-their-deepest secret? And to the object of her-_their_-affections! It was too much to bear. Tears falling freely now, she spun and ran out of the room.

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**A/N: Uh-oh! Bad older Hermione! I'm not JKR and I am quite poor.**


	8. Hermione the elder, 1995

**Hermione the elder, 1995**

"I'm sorry about her...er, me," Hermione said to Severus. "I never realized how much of a bother I was."

"Only a little of a bother," he replied, softening his words with a quirk of his lips.

"Did you think she was acting a tad-odd?" Hermione asked, musing over the last five minutes.

"I have had the dubious pleasure of your acquaintance for four and a half years now, Hermione, and I can assure you that you've always been a tad odd," he answered. She heard him mutter "More than a tad" under his breath and playfully smacked him on the arm in reproach. He raised his eyebrows at her before curling his hands under her upper arms and pulling her to him.

"You take great liberties with my person," he murmured into her ear. "I wonder what you would do if I returned the favor?" His breath whispered across her face and she could feel her bones melt. _This _was why she'd come back for him...because there was the promise of so, so much more between them. Deciding it was wise to put some distance between them, however, she took several steps back.

"I hope to find out one day," she answered primly. "In the meantime, Severus, there _is _a reason I came tonight. In a few hours, Arthur Weasley will be attacked by Nagini while on guard at the Ministry."

She could tell by the shift in his expression that he knew where Arthur was, and why. She continued, her words spilling out in a rush. "You must use the opportunity to test out your antidote, and study the reaction in Arthur. Whether it works or not should provide you with vital information for refining the potion. It will be the only chance to study Nagini's venom away from Voldemort's observation," she finished.

Severus ran a hand through his hair and strode to a locked cabinet. Extracting a vial, he checked the date on it before placing it carefully in his pocket. "I will make sure I am given access to Arthur's medical file, but I cannot guarantee the family will want me anywhere near his sickbed," he told her matter-of-factly.

His cavalier attitude about the way he was treated by most of the Order broke her heart. She grimaced. "It's only going to get worse before it will get better," she said resignedly.

He studied her intently. "Are you allowed to tell me anything of the future?" he asked, exuding pure academic interest instead of morbid curiosity.

"I believe that the next time I visit, I shall have to," she told him sadly. Smiling, she walked over and placed a hand on his cheek. "Until then," she breathed, leaning up and placing a chaste kiss upon his unresisting lips.

Her last sight before she vanished was Severus tracing his lips with one finger, a rare look of satisfaction on his features.

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**A/N: Sorry about the short chapters...things will get slightly longer in the next section, because Hermione (older) has quite a bit of explaining to do! Not JK Rowling.**


	9. Hermione the younger part 2, 1995

**Hermione the younger, 1995**

Hermione stormed up the spiraling stairs to her favorite hideout spot, a window ledge set high in the Astronomy Tower. Anger had dried her tears, and now rage roiled inside her like a beast. That was the _second _time that her older self had interrupted a carefully orchestrated meeting with Professor Snape, and Hermione was furious.

After her botched attempt at a detention-enforced conversation with her professor two years ago, Hermione had resorted to less formal encounters with the Potions Master, bumping into him in the hallways or staying a few minutes after class. One detention had been hard enough to earn; she didn't fancy landing herself in a second.

Over time, she rather thought they had built somewhat of a cordial relationship...although admittedly it had been hampered when she knocked him out in the Shrieking Shack. And then essentially announced that he was a liar. Cringing with the shame of her memories, she dredged up the ways in which he had returned the favor: his spitefulness in class, his insults about her intelligence, his criticizing of her teeth...

Growling, Hermione shoved those thoughts away as well. It didn't help that her older self had mentioned her overly large front teeth the first time they'd met, either. Thank goodness for Madam Pomfrey's blissful ignorance during her visit to the Hospital Wing last year. Regardless of their obstacles, however, Hermione had always respected Professor Snape, and recently she had come to feel that perhaps he might respect her a tiny bit as well.

Certainly, they had bumped into one another enough over the summer at Grimmauld Place, and if he hadn't been overly friendly, neither had he been his usual sarcastic self. She supposed he was too strained with matters of You-Know-Who to care much about a bushy-haired chatterer. And now that Umbridge was ruling the school, Hermione fancied that the teachers and students were united for the moment against a common enemy.

But tonight, oh, tonight! Her older self had laid Hermione's heart bare, and Professor Snape had known it was the truth the moment he looked at her. And then, he had _smiled_. Not a joyous smile, no; it had been a smile of amusement. No doubt he was laughing even now over what he viewed as her "schoolgirl crush".

Fighting back a fresh wave of tears, Hermione lowered her head to her raised knees and moaned in humiliation. How would she ever look at him now? She cursed the day her bossy, know-it-all self decided to travel back and interfere with her life.

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**A/N: Not JK Rowling. Here ends the pre-written chapters I have; the rest will follow as quickly as I can write them over the next few days!**


	10. Hermione the elder part 2, 1999

**Hermione the elder, 1999**

Hermione reviewed her sheaf of parchment once more, murmuring key points out loud to herself. She would not be able to take the pages with her, so she had to remember all of the important parts to tell Severus. What's more...she had to remember the important pieces that she _couldn't _tell Severus. Like the bit about Horcruxes—that was strictly off-limits.

Checking her sheet of time-travel dates, Hermione set the Time-Turner to the appropriate number of spins. As she was doing so, a voice that had come to plague her sounded behind her.

"I thought you had abandoned this," Gawain said, his tone hopeful.

"Never," Hermione responded firmly. She heard Gawain sigh but she did not spare him a glance as she climbed onto the table. True, it had been two weeks since she'd last visited the Time Room, but that was only because she had been researching and writing her notes. There was information that Severus needed, but Hermione knew there was a fine line between helping him and outright meddling with his timeline.

Gawain was lecturing her now, but Hermione ignored him. She knew the rules, didn't she? She'd _had _a Time-Turner in her third year, hadn't she? And she had proved herself trustworthy then, so she did not understand why this man was being so vexing now.

"Yes, yes, discretion and all that, I've got it." Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "Believe me, I have no desire to be seen any more than my younger self has a desire to get us into trouble, so your concern is appreciated but entirely unneces-"

"Your younger self? Hermione, did she see you _again_?"

Hermione rather thought that Gawain's eyeballs were about to pop from their sockets. She hadn't meant to mention that little detail to him, but it seemed that the Kneazle was out of the bag now.

"She might have, yes," Hermione responded carefully. She braced herself for the explosion that she knew was coming.

"BOOT!" Gawain barked, startling Hermione. The Ravenclaw from Hermione's year hurried over, looking at her nervously. "Please draft an official memo to Minister Shacklebolt. I want it known that Miss Granger here has been willfully ignoring the rules of the Unspeakable department during her trips back in time." He paused to give her a menacing glower. "Miss Granger and I will both sign it so it is on record that neither I nor anyone else in this department is responsible should something unintended happen to her."

Terry, a first-year apprentice in the Department of Mysteries, answered with a quiet 'yes, sir' and then bustled off, shooting an apologetic glance over his shoulder at Hermione.

"Fine," she said churlishly. "I'll sign it when I return." She was unaccustomed to being treated this way. Ever since the war had ended, her heroine status had afforded her a great deal of respect—and not a little bit of "looking the other way". When you'd helped defeat the Darkest wizard of all time, relatively small things, such as destroying the Wizarding bank, were generally glossed over.

"I am not being over-zealous, Hermione," Gawain said. "Seeing yourself twice in a row? That is a worrisome coincidence. Do you think there is any chance that your presence is drawing her?"

Hermione considered his question with the seriousness it deserved. _Had _she been exerting some kind of pull on her younger self? "I think—I think it's more that—I must have known to go back to these certain times because—because I knew I'd already been there, you know?" She tilted her head at him, wondering what he thought.

Gawain shook his head. "No, I don't know," he answered her bluntly. "That makes no sense."

"Yes, it does! I knew which times to go back to Severus, because years and years ago I'd already been there with him. It's just like Harry's Patronus! Oh, I finally understand what he was saying!" Grinning broadly, Hermione looked to Gawain for confirmation.

When he simply threw his arms in the air in surrender and muttered something about "lingering spell damage", Hermione shrugged and lay down. She had more important things to do.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Gawain. His job security seems to be fading fast, hm? Thanks to duj for suggesting a reason why Hermione might keep bumping into, well, Hermione! If Hermione's explanation to Gawain doesn't make sense, that's because time-travel hurts my brain.** **Nevertheless, I will persevere in bringing you the rest of this story as quickly as I can write it. Beta still welcomed and encouraged! **


	11. Severus, 1996

**Severus, 1996**

Severus was sound asleep in the most uncomfortable chair in the Hospital Wing when a soft whisper woke him. It wasn't a _sound_, exactly; more like a definite change in the atmosphere. Eyes snapping open, hand already on his wand, he leapt up and saw—_her_. Hermione.

"You came back much more quickly this time," he murmured, replacing his wand and stretching his sore muscles.

She did not answer him, for she was transfixed by the patient lying in the bed nearby. He cursed himself for not thinking to distract her sooner.

"She's so pale," Hermione whispered, reaching out to brush a curl away from her own face. The bandages around her chest extended all the way up to her shoulders, and the edges were lost beneath the cover of her shirt.

"Yes, well, you've—that is, _she's_—suffered quite an injury today." Severus stood beside the older Hermione and gazed down at the tiny slip of a girl now resting in the bed.

"You sat with me?" the older girl asked. His shoulders stiffened and he nodded reluctantly. She had caught him out. She was never meant to know that he had cared for her nearly round the clock after their foolish foray into the Department of Mysteries. "When I set the date for this visit, I knew I needed to catch you soon after our battle in the Ministry, but I never realized I would come to this moment because you were watching over me..." Her voice was soft, almost wondrous, and that was dangerous.

"There was no one else qualified to administer the multitude of potions and counterjinxes you required," he answered in his most cutting tone. He needed to discourage these ridiculous notions she was no doubt spinning in her head.

A small smile tipped her lips. "Well, I am quite glad _you _were qualified, Severus," she murmured as she placed a hand on his arm. Then she exhaled sharply, her gaunt but lovely face taking on a stony expression. "We have much to discuss tonight," she told him, and her tone did not encourage him to expect good news.

He gestured to a corner of the Hospital Wing away from the patient beds and followed her as she strode over. She was already talking in a whispered rush when he reached her.

"Were you able to test your potion on Arthur Weasley?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes. The antidote was not entirely successful, but I have been able to modify it based on Arthur's reactions, and I believe it should do in a pinch." To tell the truth, he had spent weeks and weeks analyzing Arthur's reactions to the administered antidote, and had even been able to try out three different modifications before Arthur had healed, so his notes on the subject were extensive.

"We're not talking about 'in a pinch', Severus!" Hermione growled, covering her eyes with one hand. His lips twitched at this familiar sign of her irritation. _Familiar sign of irritation?_, he asked himself. _Since when have you noticed Her- Miss Granger's familiar signs of irritation? _The answer to that question removed all traces of amusement from his thoughts. He would have to be more careful around the younger Miss Granger for the rest of her school years. He didn't want to give her misleading signals.

_But clearly she cares for you anyway,_ a persuasive voice answered. _She is here for you now, isn't she? _Brushing the dangerous and far-too-tempting thoughts away, Severus focused on Hermione's words again.

"-no matter, I suppose; I can always travel back to the Shrieking Shack—I'm sorry. I'm rambling and really we have much more ground to cover before I fade back." She seemed to shake herself, closing her eyes and clearly trying to recall whatever notes she had no doubt written to herself in the future.

"In a few weeks, Dumbledore will gravely injure himself. You will be able to slow the inevitable conclusion, but, Severus—it _will _be a fatal injury. I fear that when Dumbledore learns of this, he will—he will ask of you something of which he has no right." The sadness in her eyes made him want to sweep her up in an embrace until she was happy again. The impulse was entirely unwelcome, however, and Severus reminded himself that she was currently his student, and her older self was only here because he apparently died at some point in the next few years. This reminder served to recall him to his usual intensity.

"And what is that?" he asked sharply.

"It's not my place to tell you, I'm afraid," she said sadly. "You'll know it when you hear it. And you will agree—and eventually execute—his wishes, because you're both too bloody committed to saving the world." Her growl warmed him in a way that nothing else ever had. Perhaps she really, truly _did _care about him.

"I tell you this, Severus, because after that day there will be a great deal of scrutiny on your every activity, from both sides. It is _essential_ that your antidote is complete before the end of next school year, because...well, suffice it to say that Voldemort will become _very _interested in you after that point, and you cannot be seen to be openly defying him in any manner."

She paused to take a breath, and he struggled to absorb all the implications of her words. Dumbledore, injured and, if she was to be believed, dead within the year; Voldemort growing stronger and more openly powerful; himself, at the forefront of it all. It was a lot to take in, even for a seasoned spy.

"Am I to understand that-" His words were cut off by Hermione's quick lunge for his wand. His surprise at being disarmed was overridden with relief when he saw that she had mistaken her younger self for a more nefarious eavesdropper. As the younger girl crept forward, discovered, he heard Hermione swearing under her breath.

"Herm- Oh, that's too weird. What shall I call you?" Hermione asked the injured girl.

"I believe it would be most prudent for her to remain Miss Granger, and you shall remain Hermione," Severus supplied.

"Excellent. Miss Granger, please return to bed. I'm afraid this is one conversation that you cannot be privy to."

Severus added one raised eyebrow to Hermione's words to convey their message. The fifth year scampered back to her bed, eyes shooting daggers. Severus allowed himself one brief moment to be amused by the idea of the two Hermiones going head-to-head in a duel, but soon he forced himself to return his attention to the warrior angel currently hell-bent on saving him.

* * *

**A/N: And poor Severus. He wants to believe that Hermione has come for him because she loves him, but he just has a FEW eensy teensy little things on his plate...and more coming. Still not JKR, because if I _was_ her, I would have given Snape a lot more speaking lines, and he would have said 'prudent' in every other sentence. **


	12. Hermione the younger, 1996

**Hermione the younger, 1996**

As Hermione slipped back into her bed, she resisted the urge to fling her water pitcher in the direction of the quietly-conversing pair in the corner. As soon as she'd turned around, a strange buzzing sound had filled her ears, ruining her hope of continuing to listen in on the conversation. She didn't know what the spell was, but it was clear that "Hermione senior" did not want her to be a part of their whisperings.

_Shows what they know,_ she grumbled to herself. _I just fought off a pack of Death Eaters, but oh no, _that's _not good enough to be considered anything other than a bothersome child! _The pain of her recent injuries seemed to fade, pushed aside by the burning anger and embarrassment she felt. Hermione had just dismissed her like a nanny would a petulant child! She'd even called her "Miss Granger"...as though they weren't the same person! It was insulting, is what it was.

Well, if they didn't need her help, then she wouldn't offer it. No more carefully planned trips to Professor Snape's office, no more reading Potions journals in her free time so she'd be well versed should they strike up a conversation, no more defending his honor to all and sundry. No more "Be nice, Harry!" or "He is _not _a foul git, Ron!" from her, oh no. She would just have to fall _out _of love with her professor, that's all there was to it. Let "Hermione" (she couldn't help referring to her older self without sarcasm entering her tone, even in her head) make of that what she would!

Resolute, Hermione settled down into her bed, her arms crossed and a pugnacious expression on her face. She was _glad _the older girl looked so wretched. At least Hermione's hair was recently washed and presently somewhat contained in a plait, unlike the free-for-all the older girl had on display. _Shameful, _her inner Lavender whispered.

She straightened to a sitting position not fifteen minutes later as the older girl began to fade. Good. Now Professor Snape would come talk to her, and maybe he would be willing to explain a few things without "Hermione" around to stop him. Her mouth fell open in a horribly accurate imitation of a fish when the quickly-fading girl stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to Professor Snape's.

An ugly, all-consuming beast awoke and curled through her chest when she saw Professor Snape lean forward and kiss the older girl back. His immediate departure from the Hospital Wing right after only added fuel to her jealous fire.

* * *

**A/N: I believe all my A/Ns today begin with "Poor [name]". And this one is no different - poor younger Hermione. How do you upstage _yourself _in front of the object of (both) your affections? Tricky, indeed. Not JK Rowling. **


	13. Severus, 1997

**Severus, 1997**

Severus paced back and forth around his classroom, trying desperately to find another way out of this mess. It was no use, though—he'd made the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa, and he might as well have made an Unbreakable Vow with Albus too. Admitting defeat for the moment, he stared sightlessly out the small window overlooking the bottom of the Great Lake.

The time was coming, he knew. Draco had looked positively jubilant when Severus had seen him meandering back into the Slytherin common room well after curfew two nights past, as though he hadn't a care in the world. Severus' harsh reprimand had seemed to roll off the boy's shoulders as well, which could only mean one thing—the boy had finally devised a way to accomplish the mission the Dark Lord had given him.

Then, too, there had been Hermione's warnings from her last visit. She had been correct, of course, regarding Albus' injury and subsequent plea. Severus' lip curled as he remembered the distasteful task to which he found himself agreeing, and which was now looming. Though many would doubtless be surprised to hear it, the Killing Curse had never been fired from his wand before, and he did not relish having to use it on his mentor in the near future.

His depressing musings were interrupted by the sudden flare of light that announced Hermione's arrival. Though it had been nearly a year to the day since he'd last seen her, she looked mostly unchanged. She had refused to tell him exactly _when _in the future she was from; judging by her relative youthfulness, however, he suspected that his death was fast approaching. The girl could be no older than nineteen, twenty at the most.

As soon as her eyes lit upon him, a smile bloomed on her face; Severus felt the oddest desire to smile back. Unbelievable though it seemed, she really was dedicated to saving him, that much had become apparent. As the hour of Albus' murder by his hand drew near, though, Severus found himself fervently wishing that Hermione might have focused her time-traveling energies elsewhere—and that all of this could just be avoided entirely.

"It will be alright," she murmured, stepping closer, evidently aware of his train of thoughts. "It's what Dumbledore wanted—to die mercifully. You are, perhaps, the only other person alive who is very close to him." She skated a hand from his shoulder down to his wrist, twining her fingers through his and squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"And just how much longer shall I be alive?" he asked darkly. She stiffened and opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head forcefully and leaned down to look directly into her eyes. "Do not answer that," he murmured before capturing her lips with his. He needed a distraction, but more than that—he needed something to keep him going as everything around him became darker and more dangerous.

Hermione seemed to understand, for she freed her hand from his and wrapped both her arms around his neck, kissing him back eagerly. His own hands slid to her waist and pulled her closer until they were pressed against one another from lips to toes. He forced his anxiety into the back recesses of his mind and gave his passions free range as their lips met over and over. Reality would intrude eventually, after all; what harm could there be in enjoying this moment to its fullest?

He should have known that reality would intrude sooner rather than later, and in the form of Hermione's younger self, no less. As a Shield Charm blasted them apart, Severus cursed himself for not setting an alerting spell on his door. They had learned that no spells they cast managed to keep the ever-curious girl out entirely, but perhaps he could have at least had a few moments of warning before-

"How _could _you?" the younger girl screeched, and Severus flinched at the venom in her tone. "Kissing him right in front of me like some shameless-"

Placing a hand on the stone wall beside him, he straightened from where he'd been knocked off his feet by the unexpected _Protego_, preparing to intervene before the younger girl's anger made her reckless.

Hermione beat him to it, however. "Are you mad?" she demanded, squaring her shoulders and facing the younger girl belligerently. "I'm trying to _save _him, which _ought _to be something you'd like to _help _with! But you just keep interfering- NO!"

Severus watched in horror as the younger girl let out a feral growl, grabbed a chopping knife off the nearest table, and lunged. Time seemed to slow to a stop as she plunged the blade into Hermione's chest.

Three pairs of eyes widened in shock as they locked onto the red stain blooming across Hermione's shirt. Finally managing to unfreeze his limbs, Severus rushed forward and caught Hermione as she began to slump over. Sinking to the floor with her, he cradled her head in his lap and began muttering spells as quickly as he could. He only barely noticed as the bloodied knife fell from the younger girl's boneless hand, and she dropped to her knees.

Hermione gurgled something and looked at him desperately, beseechingly. He shushed her and pulled her closer, his mind unable to accept what he was witnessing. Miss Granger's hand reached out, and Severus smacked it away angrily. Her gasp caused him to look up, and he saw the rivers of tears coursing down her face. Slowly, she reached out again, brushing Hermione's hair out of her face.

"Can't you—do something? She's—she's dying!" the younger girl wailed.

"Of course she is, you foolish girl; you stabbed her in the heart!" he bellowed, instantly contrite when Hermione flinched in his arms. Looking back down at her, he tenderly stroked one of her soft cheeks, again murmuring soothingly to her. She seemed to calm a bit as long as he was talking.

"But—a healing spell, or-"

"That knife you grabbed was covered in poison! A healing spell will not work!" He fought an insane urge to bawl like a child, and only with a great force of will was he able to refrain.

The younger girl gulped audibly, clearly regretting her actions. "A bezoar, then!" she cried.

"It's no use," he growled. "I was using it to prepare ingredients for an experimental antidote, and it is coated in basilisk venom."

Both Hermiones' eyes flew to his, both frightened. "What are you doing with a basilisk-venom-coated knife lying around where anyone can grab it?" the younger one exclaimed angrily. Her tone was so characteristic of both the child and the older Hermione that he jerked perceptibly.

"This is a Potions lab!" he spat. "And I did not think I had to worry about homicidal maniacs when I am away from Death Eaters!"

The younger girl swayed as his words hit her, and he was glad. He hoped she was hurting as much as he was at this moment. Forcing himself to focus on _his _Hermione, he began to rub calming circles over her chest, smearing his fingertips through her blood. She was taking shallow, rattling breaths now, and he had seen enough of death to know that it was imminent.

"Hermione," he choked out. "Thank you—for coming back for me. For caring. I-" He had to swallow several times before he was able to continue. "I can never repay you," he whispered brokenly.

Hermione stilled his hand with her own, her eyes darting back and forth from him to Miss Granger, her plea evident. She wanted him to look out for her younger self, even now.

"Always," he whispered to her, and unbelievably she managed a small smile before she began to shudder violently. The younger girl crawled closer, taking Hermione's other hand in both of hers, and together, they watched as Hermione drew her last breath.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update this story. I didn't want to post this chapter without posting the rest in quick succession, but I had to be in the proper sort of mood to finish writing, and quite honestly, I've been too happy lately to get this story done. But it's completed now, and as much as I love the story, I'm glad I can be done writing it! **

**I'm not JK Rowling, even though I did give Severus the 'always' line in this story...I couldn't resist. It seemed appropriate, what can I say?**


	14. Gawain part 2, 1999

**Gawain, 1999**

"GET A HEALER DOWN HERE, _NOW!_" Gawain yelled, frantically casting spells and adjusting the Time-Turner as alarm bells rang one on top of the other. Two minutes ago, the first alarm sounded, notifying him that Hermione had been injured. Before he'd even made it three steps towards her table, another alarm had sounded, indicating that the injury was serious. Then another, and another, and another. The final alarm, telling them that her heart had slowed dangerously, was just ringing now, and the entire department was standing by, unsure and terrified.

A team of Healers burst through the fireplace and Gawain stepped back to give them space, quickly outlining the series of alarms to the Healer in charge. For several long moments, there was a flurry of activity as orders were barked out, and then the intense quiet as the witches and wizards worked feverishly on the eerily still body. When the lead Healer's shoulders slumped, Gawain knew it was done.

Hermione Granger was dead.

Running a shaking hand over his face, he conferred with the Healer while more Ministry officials crammed into the Time Room, alerted to the situation by one of his employees. No one seemed sure of the next steps and they simply stood there, transfixed by the form of the girl who suddenly looked very, very small.

Kingsley arrived not long after, drawing Gawain and the head Healer to the side and questioning them. Gawain told him everything he'd gleaned from Hermione about her mission and her repeated runnings-in with her younger self. Kingsley nodded seriously, listening. Finally, he directed Gawain to use her notebook to go back to the proper times and observe what had happened. They had no evidence at this point, but Gawain was fairly certain that something must have occurred between the two forms of Hermione.

"What are you going to do with her body? Isn't there still—well, _another_ one of her out there?" the Healer asked, her horror etched on her stern features.

"From what I understand, even as a teenager she was uncommonly brilliant," Gawain murmured despondently. "I believe the younger girl will figure out to come to the Ministry when—when it's time," he choked out, his emotions finally taking over.

His head in his hands, he heard Kingsley order her body to be kept in a special room. He was only too happy to comply with the mandate that no further Time-Turner use would be approved until the mystery surrounding Hermione's death was brought to light.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not JK Rowling.**


	15. Severus, 1998

**Severus, 1998**

Severus trudged silently through the thick trees that comprised the Forest of Dean. It was the kind of complete dark that only occurred in the very middle of the night, and his breath formed small puffs of steam in the coldness of the falling snow. He had been walking for close to an hour now, trying to find the area where Potter might be hiding. It was more difficult than he had imagined, though; their enchantments must be thorough, indeed.

_Hermione's enchantments. _The unwelcome thought sprang into his mind, unbidden. No matter how hard he tried to block out the events leading to her death, memories continued to ambush him at every turn. He only hoped he didn't have to see her younger version here, in the forest, tonight.

As if she was summoned by his thoughts, the elder Hermione shimmered into being next to him.

"Good evening," she said matter-of-factly, startling him.

"Hermione!" he hissed, astonished. What trick of his eyes was this? How could she _be _here, when he had watched her die? Even as hope swelled inside him, though, he recognized that something was off. She had ceased solidifying in her usual manner, and remained translucently white, drifting alongside him.

"You're a ghost." It was not a question, but she nodded anyway.

"Yes. It seems that I—cannot _go on_, as it were, until..." She shivered, even though he knew she would no longer feel the cold of the forest.

"Until she dies, too," he completed the thought for her. Hermione nodded sadly, and he resumed walking, lost in thought. So this was how things would be now: the one person to have ever possibly loved him—staying by his side as a ghost. Trying not to laugh at the unfairness of it all, he reminded himself that at least he did not have much longer to live, either. Maybe they could be ghosts together.

"You'd never choose this, Severus," she whispered, and he wondered if being a spirit allowed you to know other people's thoughts, or if she just understood him well enough to know the morbid turn his thoughts had taken.

He continued through the forest, his eyes and ears focused on any unusual sounds. He worried that he might miss the brats and have to return another time—but then Hermione began to guide him, directing him to turn left _here_ or step behind that tree over _there_. With her knowledge of their campsite, the unlikely pair soon found themselves staring at a clearing that looked just like all the rest to Severus.

"Cast your Patronus," Hermione murmured, and he did so without question. She was gazing into the snow-covered clearing with an expression of longing. Feeling as though he was intruding on something private, Severus turned his attention to the empty clearing, and was amazed when he saw Potter appear before his eyes. He must have stepped beyond the bounds of their protective enchantments to follow the doe.

Hermione indicated that they should follow, and he eagerly left the younger Miss Granger in the tent, undisturbed. As they silently trailed Potter, Hermione grew paler. By the time they'd reached the pool where the sword was concealed, she was barely a shadow.

"Severus," she whispered, her tone firm. He turned his face to her as slowly as he could, for he feared that she was about to disappear from him forever. His fear was confirmed when he finally met her eyes and saw the fierce defiance within them. "You must choose to live," she urged him. "Don't—don't give up, because of what's happened. You must...not lose hope." He began to shake his head. "Please, Severus! For me."

She reached out to place her hand upon his cheek, and he refused to flinch away from the unyielding cold of her touch. As she faded, he could swear her words echoed through the woods, until the crashing sound of Weasley running through the brush obliterated the last of his Hermione.

* * *

**A/N: I love the idea of ghost-Hermione leading Severus into the forest and helping him find her and Harry, even though it's probably improbable (time travel really confuses me, in case you can't tell).** **Still not JKR.**


	16. Hermione the younger, 1998

**Hermione the Younger, 1998**

"He is _not _a 'foul, loathsome git,' Ron, for the last time!" Hermione leapt to her feet and raced outside the tent, running to the very edges of her protective enchantments before stopping to catch her breath. She was tired, _so _tired, of Ron and Harry's hatred for Professor Snape. She knew it was unwarranted, but she was unable to tell them why, and they would never understand unless she told them everything.

And she could never, ever tell them everything. "Everything" was simply too horrible to comprehend.

Hermione leaned over and retched as she remembered, again, the scene in the Potions classroom at the end of last school year. Her mind had gone in circles ever since that disastrous day, trying to figure out what exactly it meant, and she'd always come to the same conclusion.

She was dead. Or she would be.

Whimpering softly, Hermione Vanished the mess and curled into a ball on the forest floor. She was terrified of what she'd done, and in the back of her mind, she hoped that Voldemort or an efficient Death Eater got to her first, before she had to face whatever would be waiting for her in the Department of Mysteries.

She knew the boys thought she was Apparating them to deserted forests to give them time while they searched for the Horcruxes, and that was partially true. The real truth, however, was that she merely hoped to prolong whatever was coming her way after the final battle. Maybe, if they just traipsed around in forests forever, then...she would continue to live. Surely if she stayed away from Hogwarts or the Ministry she'd be fine, right? She didn't currently possess a Time-Turner, so as long as she was out here with Harry and Ron, she was no danger to herself...

She just wished Harry would stop talking about the Resurrection Stone as if it was some magnificent thing. A stone that brought the dead back to life? She shuddered. She could only imagine how sickening it would be to see _herself _brought back. And then there would be hell to pay when she had to explain why her older self was in the land of the dead to begin with...although maybe it would allow her to save her future in some way?

No, it was far better to leave the Hallows well enough alone. If it made her sick to her stomach to contemplate what they might mean, well, then, that was her penance.

* * *

**A/N: I always felt like there had to be a deeper explanation for Hermione's aversion to the Deathly Hallows in general, and the Resurrection Stone in particular. I would imagine that fear of seeing yourself, dead, is a plausible reason. Not JKR.**


	17. Severus part 2, 1998

**Severus, 1998**

So this was it, then. Viciously bitten by Voldemort's pet and left to die on the dusty floor of the place where he had experienced so much humiliation. Truly, the worst sort of tragic romance novelist could not have devised a less glamorous death scene. He was certain it could not get any worse.

The ill-timed arrival of Potter and friends would have made Severus laugh if he'd still had much of a throat. As it was, he contented himself with his best glare, but he feared by the looks on their faces that it had fallen short of 'frightening'. Still, he supposed it was lucky—there were things Potter needed to know, and now was his last chance to impart them. Memories pouring out of him, Severus dared to glance at Miss Granger, but he had to close his eyes when he realized how much she now resembled the Hermione that had come back for him. It was too much to bear.

Potter and Weasley prepared to return to the castle, and Severus' eyes snapped open when he heard Miss Granger assuring them that she'd be along shortly. Once they'd gone, he and the girl simply stared at one another in the dimness of the room, unsure what to make of each other. Were they allies, or enemies? He did not know.

"Is the antidote with you?" she asked nervously. He managed a small nod, and she nearly fell on him in her haste to locate the vial. Her fumbling hands finally pulled the tiny green vial from one of his robe's innermost pockets, and she held it up for his inspection. Again, he nodded. Miss Granger sighed with relief, and she moved closer to his face, clearly preparing to pour the concoction which had started this whole mess down his throat.

But it had been created at too high a price. Severus summoned his strength and grabbed the vial, wresting it from her surprised fingers. He flung it with all his remaining might across the room, and he heard it shatter satisfyingly against a far wall.

Miss Granger gasped and her eyes widened to comical proportions as she followed the vial across the room. "What have you-"

"She was my heart," he rasped, the girl's eyes returning to his, "but you stabbed it. And you can't live without a heart." His words said, his choice made, Severus subsided again into silence, willing Death to at least take him quickly, if not painlessly.

"No!" Miss Granger cried, thumping him on the chest fruitlessly in her frustration. "NO! You can't—she wouldn't have wanted—how will I-"

Severus closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of her voice rather than the tone or the words. He searched his soul for peace, for her older self had been right—he would not wish to remain a ghost, though the promise of a year with Hermione while she waited for her younger self to die was frighteningly tempting. He felt the girl collapse on his chest, sobbing hysterically, and as he wound a hand through her unruly hair, he could almost convince himself that this was not such a bad ending.

* * *

**A/N: Ha, ha, when you think about it, Snape's death is pretty melodramatic...and in the Shrieking Shack, really? The indignity! At least it wasn't Potter who knocked him out this time... I hope you enjoy Severus' angsty little fit there at the end with the vial. When protagonists are wronged in books, I always hope that they'll hold a grudge and never give in, even though they nearly always do. Oh well. **

**I'm not JK Rowling, honestly, please stop asking!**


	18. Gawain part 3, 1999

**Gawain, 1999**

Gawain gradually registered that he was back on the table in the Time Room, but he remained still, his eyes closed against the harsh lighting. He needed a moment to process everything he had learned as he investigated Hermione's death.

_I tried to tell her! _he raged over and over, all other thoughts pushed aside by his furious guilt. If she had only listened—only realized that being seen would have consequences—but no, she had blindly insisted that her younger self would cause no problems, and look what had happened.

Murdered by her own hand.

The grisly scene in the Potions classroom was emblazoned on his brain; Gawain did not relish the paperwork and Pensieve archiving that would follow in the next few days. Try as he might, though, he could not think of anything more that could have been done to change the outcome of Hermione's trips into the past.

Except...

Gawain opened his eyes. Slowly, he sat up from the table, a plan forming in his mind. There was _something _that could be done, maybe not to help Hermione, but to prevent a tragedy like this from ever occurring again. Cold purpose filled him as he became convinced that there was only one way to avoid such a catastrophe in the future.

* * *

**A/N: I've rather come to like my head canon Gawain, and I feel like our dear Hermione really put him in a terrible position. Not JKR.**


	19. Kingsley Shacklebolt, 1999

**Kingsley Shacklebolt, 1999**

"Thank you for coming here on such short notice," Kingsley intoned, eyes roaming the sea of reporters, Ministry officials, and concerned citizens before him. "As many of you may have heard, this evening there was a massive fire in the Department of Mysteries." Murmurs broke out among the crowd, and Kingsley raised one hand to quiet them. "Unfortunately, this fire was no accident, but rather a planned destruction of the entire Time Room—and its staff."

Silence reigned for the space of a heartbeat, and then the atrium exploded with shouts of horror and rapid-fire questions. Kingsley drew several long, deep breaths as he waited for the initial shock to pass before he began to explain. Rita Skeeter provided the perfect opportunity when she elbowed her way to the front.

"Did this incident have anything to do with the alleged death of Hermione Granger earlier this week?" the brash reporter nearly shrieked. Everyone stilled, eager to hear their Minister's answer.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they are related," he said, relying on his rich voice to maintain everyone's attention for the entire explanation. Clearing his throat, he began.

"Hermione Granger received special permission to use the newly unveiled Time-Turners. She wished to go back in time to help save the life of Severus Snape, whom she learned after the final battle of Hogwarts had been working tirelessly for the side of light. She presented her case to myself and the Wizengamot, and her request was granted. For the past month, she had been travelling back in time to assist Professor Snape in preparing an antidote to Voldemort's poisonous snake. Her journals indicated that she had been successful; however, Gawain Robards, the head of our Unspeakables department, reported to me that during her visits to the past she was seen repeatedly by her own, younger self." Kingsley paused, glancing down at the page of notes in front of him. Unfortunately, he knew the details all too well by memory. "It is the Department of Mysteries' policy that time-travelers not be seen. Mr. Robards made every effort to avert Miss Granger from her goal after learning of these sightings, but she was not to be deterred. Her reasoning in regards to being seen by herself was seemingly sound, and she continued her trips."

The audience was staring at Kingsley raptly, and he wished, again, that they had published this story in the papers a few days ago when it had happened. Now, the Wizarding world had had plenty of time to spread rumors and wild conjectures, and truthfully Kingsley had no idea what kind of explanations for her death were circling.

"Unfortunately, there _were _consequences for the elder and younger Misses Granger; it seems that..." Kingsley faltered. How would he explain this most unlikely of love stories to a world that would be shocked, horrified, and disbelieving? He hadn't expected his term as Minister to be smooth in the wake of the war, but this was really more than he had bargained for. "It seems that Miss Granger harbored romantic feelings for Professor Snape, and when the older girl expressed these feelings in the presence of the younger one, the younger one grew jealous."

Kingsley bowed his head as he prepared to finish this portion of the tale. "On her last visit through time, the elder Miss Granger was fatally stabbed by the younger Miss Granger in a fit of rage. Healers were summoned to the Time Room and everything that could be done was done, but it was no use. Hermione Granger officially died at nine o'clock in the evening this past Tuesday, June 7, 1999."

Kingsley stepped away from the podium for a moment, keeping his head bowed in homage to one of their greatest war heroines and all-around respected witches. Distantly he heard people crying, and the low buzz of discussion began to swell, signaling the start of his next set of explanations. Not surprisingly, it was Rita who again provided him the opening for his next words.

"So she somehow managed to light the whole place on fire to hide her shame, did she?" the vindictive woman fairly purred as her characteristic quill scratched away in front of her.

"No," Kingsley answered evenly. "I have in front of me a signed magical agreement from the Unspeakables involved in the Time Room which I believe will dispel any further speculation." He slowly unrolled the parchment and began to read.

_We, the witches and wizards of the Department of Mysteries, Time Exploration Unit (hereinafter referred to as the 'Unit') hereby enact the Time Abuse Prevention Protocol (TAPP), as set forth by our colleagues, superiors, and fellow travelers in time during the Time Knowledge Revolution era of the 1740s. This protocol shall be executed only when the entire Unit agrees that the usefulness of the Time Exploration studies are eclipsed by the propensity for said Time Exploration studies to be exploited for personal gain or other non-scientific motivations. _

_The TAPP will irrevocably damage the work of the Unit beyond all magical and Muggle repair, therefore rendering the Unit non-existent and its knowledge base beyond retrieval. The Unit, in enacting the TAPP, acknowledges that they surrender their bodies, minds, and souls for the good of the greater Wizarding world. All parties have signed below, indicating their full consent for the enactment of the TAPP, and the subsequent complete Obliviation of their persons. _

_The Unit regrets the series of events which have led to the invoking of the TAPP, but unanimously agrees that the TAPP has become necessary. We seal this letter for delivery to the Minister of Magic and further distribution to the entire Wizarding community so that our motivations may be known and understood to their full extent. _

_Sincerely,_

_Gawain L. Robards, Head, Department of Mysteries_

_Witness: Terrence M. Boot, Unspeakable, assistant to Mr. Robards_

_Signed: Penelope Q. Clearwater, Rolland F. Croaker, Bernard M. Dragonhide, Heathclaw P. S. Hornby, Robin J. McAvoy_

As Kingsley finished reading the letter, a heavy silence descended on the atrium. Even Rita was standing quietly, her mouth hanging open in surprise. This was certainly going to make Wizarding history—never before had an entire department of Ministry officials been essentially wiped out of existence.

Never before had anyone been brave enough to do it.

As people began frantically talking again, Kingsley fielded questions from the row of reporters at the front of the crowd, his thoughts on the man who had led the group of dedicated Unspeakables to their current state. Gawain had given the ultimate sacrifice by destroying the Time Room and all its objects; he had no doubt Obliviated all the others before turning his wand on himself. It was complicated spellwork, to be sure, and required a firm resolve and a belief that what you were doing was right. It was what had made Gawain such an outstanding Auror before he had been promoted to the Head of the Unspeakables.

Exhausted and feeling more defeated than he ever had before, Kingsley remained standing at the podium in the atrium long after everyone else had departed.

* * *

**A/N: I hope it's clear in this chapter, but basically, Gawain and the others destroyed all the Time-Turners and time research permanently, removing their own memories in the process so no one could come back in and recreate anything. They would have eradicated the Time-Turning ability for good...or at least for as many years as it would take a reasonably intelligent group of wizards to recreate the technology. **

**Not JKR.** **Although I did make 7 Unspeakables in the Time department because 7 is so magical, so I can see where you'd get confused.**


	20. Hermione, 1999

**Hermione, 1999**

Hermione picked her way through the charred wreckage of the Time Room. She'd been feeling the pull of this place for weeks now, and had finally given in. She thought she would find her body and the magic would somehow reunite them, killing her like she'd killed her other self, but so far she could find no trace of the body which she felt certain had been stored here after her disastrous forays through time.

She had been surprised when she arrived at the Ministry, inquiring about the Head of the Department of Mysteries, only to be turned away with the harried exclamation of, "Haven't you heard what's happened, girl? They're gone, all gone!" Her search had quickly led her to St. Mungo's, where a Mr. Gawain Robards now resided in the Permanent Spell Damage ward.

_Resided _was really too nice of a term, Hermione thought darkly. Mr. Robards, along with Terry Boot and Penelope Clearwater and four others she did not know, lay in that ward, completely unknowing of anything around them. Their bodies were still alive, yes; but it was clear that their brains had ceased to work properly, and their blank stares had unnerved her more than anything she'd ever witnessed. As she had fought her nausea at the sight of the seven unmoving witches and wizards, a Mediwitch had bustled in for her rounds. Thrilled to see that someone was visiting her patients, she had perhaps shared far more information than she should have.

_Permanently Obliviated...coma-like state...no trace of brain activity or knowledge of themselves or their surroundings... _Hermione was horrified by what she'd learned, but grateful—at least now she knew what she was up against. When she'd returned to the Ministry, she'd snuck down to the 9th level, careful to keep her face averted to avoid detection. She hadn't allowed herself to worry about gaining access to the Time Room—she was determined to find what she'd come for, and that was that.

Luckily, it seemed that even the Unspeakables department was not infallible, for the same loophole that had allowed her to get past her older self's protections now granted her access to what was left of the Time Room as well. The magic seemed to just..._recognize _her, there was no other way to describe it.

So here she was, her feet crunching on the burned debris of what had once been a great and mysterious magical research department. Examining the scorch pattern on the walls, Hermione thought she saw the evidence of Fiendfyre. It would make sense, after all—they had wanted complete and utter destruction of their work, and Fiendfyre would certainly do that.

This was all because of _her_. If she hadn't interfered—if she hadn't gone back in time—if she hadn't encountered herself—none of this would have occurred. Those people would be at home with their families, and the Wizarding world would have access to Time-Turners for important things, not ridiculous, ill-fated lovers. Her lip curled distastefully, and then she saw it—a tiny, shimmering corner of something that had not been devoured by the flames.

Hermione dug out the small silver box with great effort. It seemed to have been embedded in the wall, and was only exposed when the flames had eaten away much of the brick. Wondering how it had been protected against the cruel fire, she nevertheless was glad for it. Perhaps this would be the key to her redemption.

The box, like the room itself, seemed to recognize her, and it sprang open with a soft pop. Inside, a tiny hourglass and a piece of parchment lay nestled on a charmed cushion. Setting the box down so that she could open the note, she gasped in surprise at the sight of her own handwriting.

_Hermione—I dearly hope that this box is never found, but if so, then I fear that something has gone terribly wrong. It's spelled to open only for you and protected in every way I could think of. The hourglass is an experimental prototype of a new kind of Time-Turner; it hasn't been cleared for use and the Unspeakables don't know I've taken one. But I had to put a back-up plan into place in the event that things didn't work out the way I'd imagined. _

_If you've found this box, Hermione, please...go back and fix things. **Please. **_

_Hermione Granger, June 1, 1999_

Hermione stared dumbly at the tiny hourglass for a moment before her features firmed in resolve. She _would _go back. She had to. She couldn't let the current fate of Mr. Robards or the death of Professor Snape stain her forever. She had to fix what she'd done.

Gripping the hourglass tightly, Hermione felt a peculiar twisting sensation as she was pulled backwards in time, and she vowed to do whatever it took to set things right.

* * *

**A/N: And there you go. She is just never able to leave well enough alone, is she? I'll leave it up to your imagination whether she's able to fix everything or not, but I would hope that she's learned her lesson by now. **

**If at any point my explanations for the time travel were confusing, rest assured that it is because I, too, was very likely confused. I do not claim to be an expert on time travel, much like I do not claim to be JK Rowling. **


End file.
